The Frat Control Experiment Parts X-XIII
by: webb025@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: This is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under 18, or are offended by the idea of male-male sex or mind control, DO NOT read this.
This is the continuation of the story begun in Parts I-IX in three earlier files. You'll have much more fun with this if you read those parts first.
X.
Bill and Brad had lived in the same small town and attended the same schools since childhood, and had been casual friends for years. Bill was 6'4", with straight brown hair that hung almost over his eyes and transitioned to a short buzz cut at the bottom. He had a handsome, lean, angular face that you would pick out right away in a group picture. Brad was 5'6", short blond hair, pretty round face, and an intense gaze from his green eyes that could transfix you.
Apart from their good looks, however, Bill and Brad had little in common. Bill was an only slightly better-than-average student, and while he worked out regularly and was well-defined and very strong, he was somewhat awkward when he moved, and so mostly rode the bench in both football and basketball. Although he was no star athlete, he did hang out with the jock crowd. Fortunately, his loose pants helped to hide the embarrassing situations that occasionally arose from his frequent physical proximity to jock types. Brad, on the other hand, had a completely smooth, toned body that came not from planned exercise but from the level of energy he brought to everything he did. Through all his years at school, he had either ranked #1 or #2 in his class, and by the time of graduation, he knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life professionally. He mostly associated with the academic types, including Belinda, his girlfriend all through high school.
In fact, with so little in common, and hanging with different groups, the two would probably not have even been casual friends, except for one thing: while the closeted Bill did enjoy being with the jocks more than they ever knew, he was MUCH more attracted to smart types, particularly cute blond Brad. Many times he had fantasized them together, picturing himself spooned around the smaller Brad, with Brad gazing at him with pure admiration and love. He sometimes imagined Brad as his devoted little puppy, admiring and licking every part of his body while Bill flexed his considerable muscles. He imagined Brad growling and chewing on Bill's sweaty old sneakers while Bill fondled his tight little ass. He pictured Brad getting highly sexually excited sniffing his way through Bill's clothes hamper, filled with well-worn shirts and pants, used underwear, socks, and jockstraps, all with Bill's scent permeating them. Bill even imagined himself stretched out on the couch, with one of his size 13 feet gently pushing Brad's face away while Brad tried to hump his other leg. Over the years, these images had caused the production of what seemed like gallons of Bill-jizz.
Bill insinuated himself into Brad's life by asking for his help with schoolwork. It was a plausible enough reason, and Brad was happy to help one of the more popular guys in his class. On evenings when Brad would come over, Bill had to work hard to control himself, or he would give the game away. He would jerk off before Brad got there, although that was not much help at his age. By the time he leaned over Brad to look at his work, and caught Brad's fresh clean scent, he would be hard again. On one particularly hot day, before Brad's arrival he had opened his window and shut off the central air conditioning's access to his room, complaining to Brad it was broken, in hopes he could convince Brad to remove his shirt and Bill could admire his beautiful, smooth, gently-toned torso. As he leaned over Brad, Bill noticed a drop of sweat coursing down the back of Brad's neck, and it took all of his willpower not to lick it off. Brad was totally oblivious to all the intense "electricity" Bill felt when they were close, to the point that it amazed Bill. He always secretly hoped that his feelings would be, at least at some level, reciprocated.
But Brad was hopelessly straight. Much as Bill might wish otherwise, he knew it for a fact. He had watched Brad and Belinda together, even at times when they didn't know they were being watched. He also saw Brad's eye occasionally caught by some other beauty walking by, and NEVER saw it happen with a guy, handsome, shirtless, or otherwise. Not ever.
As it happened, Bill and Brad were the only two students from their high school to apply and be accepted at our favorite university. They did so for two different reasons: Bill, because his big brother had gone there four years previously, and his well-to-do family had contributed to the school, which greatly improved his admission chances despite his so-so grades; and Brad, because of the school's academic reputation in his chosen field, and its offer of a scholarship, valuable to his less-well-off family.
Upon arrival, they were randomly assigned to double rooms on different floors of the freshman dorm. Bill's roommate turned out to be an unpleasant guy from another state who was also totally unattractive to Bill. Meanwhile, Brad had a roommate who kept hours incompatible with Brad's study habits. One evening, they sat down together in the dining hall and compared notes on their living situation.
"I can't take too much more of this. It's getting in the way of my schoolwork, and I'm losing sleep besides," said Brad.
"Me too. Thank God I have a way out of this in a couple of weeks. My brother was a member of the Sig Lam fraternity four years ago. I went over there yesterday, and they said they'd let me pledge the house, and I'd probably get in because of my brother. I can't WAIT to get out of this hellhole."
Brad brightened a bit. "Do you suppose you could get me into Sig Lam too? Maybe we could room together there."
Bill's visit the day before had been an eye-opener, and in a way a turning point for him. He had chatted with Pete, Sig Lam's pledge master, and after they discussed the situation involving Bill's brother (who had been at Sig Lam long before these new "special" years), Pete had come right out and asked if Bill were gay. Bill, taken aback by the question, saw no benefit in hiding the situation if it would affect his potential life at the frat, and told Pete the truth. This seemed to please Pete a great deal. "For gay folks, Sig Lam offers a very special opportunity related to our association with the Gamma Kappa fraternity. And there's no real need to come out publicly if you don't want to. Here, have a look."
Pete led Bill to a room next to his. An athletic-looking Sig Lam sat in a reclining chair, wearing nothing but a pair of dirty white socks, holding a novel in one hand and lazily stroking his cock with the other. Two smooth skinny guys were by him, a short one kneeling before him massaging his feet through the socks, and a taller one kneeling beside him and stroking one of his nipples. The Sig Lam was clearly enjoying the attention; Bill could see his arm and leg muscles flex under his taut skin as he shifted in the chair.
"Both those GKs are straight," Pete told Bill.
"No way!" exclaimed Bill. "Those two are really getting into their work."
"And work it is." Pete went on to explain the "special" relationship between Sig Lam and Gamma Kappa, and the obligations of all members of the latter to all members of the former. He carefully watched Bill for his reaction. If Bill's response was wrong, he would soon find himself standing in front of the house with no memory of the last thirty minutes. But Bill was getting harder by the second.
"I've GOT to get in on this. I've waited all my life for something like this. How soon can I move in?"
"We're in the process of getting more rooms now. Starting next week, in both the Sig Lam and GK houses, a Sig Lam will be in charge in each room, and one or two GKs will live in his care. We have rules, though, to not interfere with the GKs' academic work. We want them at their full potential to help in every way, not just physical.
"If you're serious about moving in, we're having our weekly meeting tonight. Why don't you come over and check it out?" Of course, Bill's attending that meeting would forever seal his loyalty to the frat and its secrets.
"I'll be there, for sure!" Wheels were grinding in his head. Maybe the future would be better than he thought. That night, he arrived in plenty of time for the meeting, drank the offered Kool-Aid, and sat down to observe the festivities.
The next day, as he sat at the dining table with Brad, Bill's plan continued to play out.
"Sorry, dude, I'm sure I couldn't get you an invitation from Sig Lam. I'm just a 'legacy', so while they really sort of have to take me, they wouldn't listen to my suggestions about other people."
Brad looked a bit downcast. "Too bad, man. I was feeling a bit homesick, and it would have been fun to be your roommate."
"Hey, you're too smart for Sig Lam anyway. They're more of a 'good old boy' frat than some of the others. Say, why don't you pledge over at Gamma Kappa? They're more the academic type. You're a natural for them. Didn't they ask you?"
"No, they didn't, and I was kind of surprised. They took several of the smarter people I've gotten to know here."
"I'll bet it was just an oversight," Bill said, smiling. Within an hour, a Gamma Kappa would be racing to Brad's dorm room with a note, as if his life depended on it (which he would actually believe). The note would contain an invitation for Brad to pledge and an incredibly generous housing offer that seemed too good to be true. With Brad's financial situation, he would snap it up in an instant.
"Well, too bad we couldn't have been roommates. I'm sure I'll find someplace good to stay around here."
Bill smiled again. Oh, they would be roommates, all right. Bill's greatest fantasies were on the verge of coming true. Of course, at first Bill's new straight roommate might not enjoy all the very personal tasks he would be assigned by Bill for the privilege of living in a basket on the floor in Bill's room. But he would perform them willingly, even eagerly, to serve Bill the best he could. He would put all of his superior intelligence into learning to bring pleasure to Bill. And who knows, maybe over time, with sufficient nonstop mind-fucking, he would become convinced he actually DID enjoy the tasks he was performing. And even start to fantasize about new ones. After all, it had happened before, in some of the other experiments...
XI.
Football practice had just ended. The exhausted team entered the locker room and dispersed to their lockers to strip. Suddenly, the door was thrown open, slamming loudly against the doorjamb, and an angry shout of "Muller!" came from the doorway. Immediately, one of the jocks, a 6'8" 270-pound well-muscled senior linebacker, snapped to attention, a frightened look coming over his face. The other players cowered closer to their lockers and began to strip more quickly, hoping to slip out of the room and into the shower as unnoticeably as possible.
In the doorway, glowering, stood a 5'5", 15-year-old high school sophomore holding a skateboard. He had short, curly black hair and dark eyes that seemed to fire daggers at the object of his anger in the corner. He was generally lean except for a bit of baby fat that remained in certain areas around his body. A member of the local high school chess club, he had obviously discovered some of the new benefits of club membership, although for some reason he did not seem to think these benefits were strange, nor could he have told you how they came to be.
He strode forcefully over to the linebacker, with one or two players scurrying quickly out of his path as he did so. "Where the hell were you yesterday? You know I don't have a car yet, you knew I needed a ride, you knew I was expecting you." The jock stood, frozen with fear, babbling, "Sir... I... I... I... p-p-practice ran l-l-late, and I... I... sir..."
The skater dropped his board, grabbed one of the linebacker's arm, and twisted it behind his back. The linebacker winced in pain in the small teen's unbreakable iron grip. His pecs and upper torso writhed in agony. "Well, asshole, I see I'm going to have to teach you to respect me totally. Sullivan, get over here!"
The 6'5" redheaded quarterback had almost completed stripping and was attempting to slip into the shower room when his name was called. He looked up, afraid, trying to decide whether to make a break for it.
"Sullivan, are you coming over here or do I have to come over there and beat your ass? I've done it before, you know I can do it again."
Resigned, the team leader came over to where Sir and Muller were, and stood at attention.
"That's better. Now YOU respect me, don't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"I need to get THIS piece of shit to respect me like you do. Sullivan, get yourself hard!"
"Sir?"
"Now!"
It was somewhat difficult for the quarterback, in this humiliating situation, to get himself erect, but he succeeded. At a fat 9.5 inches, he was in the upper echelons of the RTR fraternity, and was used to people taking orders from HIM. But here, he was just another football player, and in the grip of the Grand Master's secret plan for the football team, that made him physically weaker than any member of the high school chess club. Getting hard at the command of this 15-year-old was humiliating, but better than being thrashed by him and having to explain his bruises afterwards to the outside world. So far, at least, the humiliation was known only to team members. But who knew how long THAT would last?
"Okay, now, Muller, suck off your leader!"
"B-b-but... but... I don't... I'm not..." Sir twisted Muller's arm harder, and Muller fell to his knees in pain. "Now!"
Muller tentatively licked Sullivan's cockhead and down his shaft. "What kind of queer shit is that? I said SUCK IT! Take it all!" Sir shoved Muller's head over Sullivan's cock and pushed. "But...b-b-b..." The linebacker's throat expanded as Sullivan's cock penetrated deeper and deeper into it. Muller's gag reflex set in, but Sir's sheer strength kept forcing his throat down onto the cock until it completely disappeared. He grabbed Muller's hair and fucked his face on and off of Sullivan's shaft.
Sullivan, knowing there was only one way this would end, allowed himself to come to climax, pouring a load out into Muller's mouth. But it took Muller by surprise, and the next spurts ended up partly on the floor, partly on the skateboard, and partly on Sir's size 7 Nikes. "Eww, gross! You got it on my board and my shoes!" Pulling Muller by the hair, he lowered his face to the floor. "You lick all that clean, NOW!" When Muller hesitated, a steel-like slap across his face with Sir's other hand was all it took to convince him to comply. When he had finished to Sir's satisfaction, Sir picked him up again by the hair and slammed him onto his butt by his locker. Totally defeated, the linebacker looked up fearfully at his tormentor.
"From now on, you better jump when I tell you to," Sir informed Muller. "That goes for all of you. I got news for you. I'm straight, but we got a new team member, a freshman, who's gay. He's smaller than me, but he could clean the floor with any of you pussies. He told me he intends to come over here soon and find the biggest, meanest one of you and break him to his will, and use him as a sex toy in front of the team. So if you don't want it to be you, I suggest you be nice to all of us, and maybe we won't tell everyone else how weak you all are."
Actually, both the team and the club had been programmed not to want that news to get out, but neither group knew this consciously. In any event, the team had been working out ferociously in an attempt to get stronger, while the club's social lives and self-esteem had improved to the point that they had moved from the bottom to the top of the high school social structure. Another successful experiment? Only the end of the football season would tell.
XII.
After showering and dressing, the three football players who were members of the RTR fraternity walked home. At the front was Jim Sullivan, the quarterback, who had just been forced by a high-school student to cum into -- and onto -- a teammate. He was determined that the team would hit the weights and practice extra long until they could get out of the grip of these powerful teen chess geeks.
Behind him, at a respectful distance in consideration of his status within the fraternity, came two noted recruits for this year. There was Bob Rutland, Jim's freshman backup quarterback, taller than Jim, and much better looking, but not as well muscled. Bob had not yet fully adjusted to the transition between high school ball, where he had been all-state, and college ball, where a new level of skill was required. With him was defensive lineman Quentin Parks. While his 315 pounds had helped him dominate in high school, he too was discovering that there were guys bigger and stronger than him in the college game. Not to mention stronger young kids at the local high school!
As they entered the house, they came across Jason, the RTR president, near the entrance. "Hi, Jason," said Jim, while all the two recruits could do was lower their heads a bit and avert their eyes from gazing directly at their godlike president. Even though they had not been around RTR long, in some senses, they were now fully programmed into the house's ways. And to them, none of it seemed unusual. Didn't EVERYONE depend on cock size for respect?
Bob and Quentin were in a foul mood. They had just witnessed two team members being physically humiliated by a high school kid. Normally, with their respected mentor frat brother and roommate Richie out for the evening at a dance rehearsal, they would have stopped by the room of two-inch-dicked Roger, former RTR president, ordered him to their room, and pushed and kicked him around and forced him to humiliate himself in front of them, made him thank them, and sent him on his way. This time, though, when they went to Roger's room, they saw a startling sight: Roger and his roommate Wally were wrestling in deadly earnest on the floor, being ordered around by ANOTHER high school kid, who was sitting naked in a chair getting off on being obeyed. "Wally, arm under Roger's throat! Knee him in the balls!" A glance at the chair showed the football players that at least this kid DESERVED to be obeyed: he must have been hung at least eight inches. He had the two football players beat by at least two or three inches, which did not make them his mindless slaves right away, like small-dicked Roger and Wally, but did make them almost completely deferential to his wishes, and believe anything he said.
They were about to respectfully back out of the room, but the kid called them in. "Hi, I'm Louis. You must be Bob and Quentin. I heard about you. Nice to meet you. Puppets, go say hello to Bob and Quentin."
Roger and Wally immediately broke off wrestling, crawled over to the football players, knelt before them, kissed their crotches, and looked up with hopeful faces. "See, I've got 'em trained good, don't I?" Bob and Quentin had to agree that Louis had indeed done a good job with Roger and Wally. "Say, why don't you two join in the fun?" As tired as the two had been previously, they immediately perked up at the offer to play with Roger and Wally under Louis' esteemed direction.
"OK, let's wrestle! Bob, you take Wally, and Quentin, you take Roger. Go!"
Within seconds, Roger and Wally were pinned helplessly to the floor, groaning in pain under the weight of their betters.
Louis wrinkled his nose. "THAT's no fun. How can I spice this up?" He thought for a minute. "I know. Let 'em go. How could you treat 'em that way? Those are two of the most beautiful people you've ever seen! Bob, don't you think Wally there looks just like Britney Spears, who you're totally hot for?" Bob looked at Wally. Instantly he started to get hard as he noticed the near-total resemblance between Wally and Britney, his all-time sexual lust object (at least she was NOW). "Quentin, doesn't Roger there look exactly like Christina Aguilera, who you beat off thinking about assfucking every night?" The defensive back looked at Roger in a new way, and got greatly excited. "And you guys are always REAL horny after practice, aren't you?" Roger and Wally started to look frightened as the two football players looked at them in total lust.
"Hey, Wally, Roger, I suggest you play your parts. Either you convince 'em you're Britney and Christina, or these two are going to beat the living crap out of you." Wally and Roger, realizing as always that every word Louis said was true, began nervously to act as feminine as they could. Wally cooed, in tune, "I'm not that innocent." That was more than Bob could take. He lifted Wally bodily off the floor as if he were a feather, dropped him on his back in his bed, dropped on top of him, started fondling what he took to be Britney's luscious breasts, and roughly shoved his long tongue down Wally's throat. Wally squirmed, but he dared not resist the lust-crazed quarterback. To seem like a horny Britney, he rubbed Bob's firm six-pack with one hand and his solid throwing-arm bicep with the other. Wally then moved a hand down to work on Bob's raging cock before Bob discovered there was no place to put it down there.
Meanwhile, Roger nervously started humming "Lady Marmalade" in a high voice. This caused Quentin to lower his 315 pound frame on top of Roger's diminutive form on the floor. With no warning, he flipped Roger over, stripped off everything he was wearing, and was starting to simply enter Roger with no preparation or lubrication of any kind. Louis, alarmed and not wanting his new linebacker toy to physically damage Roger, ordered him to stop, located the lubricant he had had Roger buy for an earlier session, tossed it to Quentin, and told him he should use lots of it on Christina.
After both Bob and Quentin had cum, Louis sent them up to their room, where they lived on mattresses on either side of Richie's bed, with each one's face within easy kissing distance of one pink-toenailed foot. Louis hoped Richie wouldn't be too upset he had used them, but it turned out that since it was Richie's dance rehearsal night, he came back too tired to put Bob and Quentin through their paces. Actually, Louis had benefited RTR: it was Richie's job to break in Bob and Quentin, training them to learn their place towards the bottom of RTR's cock-based hierarchy regardless of sexual preference, to accept it at first, and later learn to love it. Their satisfying experience as muscular sex-puppets of a hung high-school sophomore would help them down that road.
XIII.
It was now getting close to Thanksgiving. Brad was headed from class to his room in the Gamma Kappa house. Under his outer clothes he was wearing a sweaty old jockstrap and unwashed socks belonging to his roommate, longtime friend and now idol, Bill. Bill had helpfully suggested he wear them at all times, to remind him of his fraternal obligation to Bill as a Sig Lam. At first, being straight, he had derived no particular pleasure from wearing them, but lately, he started to feel cold and uncomfortable when he didn't have them on. Bill's constant mental work on him was having an effect. In fact, on those days when Brad would get back first to the room after classes, he would absent-mindedly start looking around for Bill's unwashed clothes to sniff, seeking out Bill's comforting odor. If he found a particularly ripe article of clothing, he might secretly stash it under his pillow, and chew on it after the lights had been turned out.
When they first started living together, Brad wondered why he had never noticed just how perfect Bill was while they were in high school. After awhile, though, with some subconscious input from Bill, he began to realize that all along he had fantasized about Bill. Whenever he had been with Belinda, he now realized he had been really thinking about Bill all the time. These thoughts were slowly but surely transforming Brad's mental sexual makeup. By "rewriting" Brad's history, Bill was placing himself in all the crucial spots in Brad's conscious and subconscious mind. Step by step, Bill was transforming Brad into the pet of his dreams.
Back when Brad had first arrived at GK with the rest of his pledge class, he had been surprised to find that Alex was a member of that class. Alex had been Brad's original roommate in the freshman dorm. He had seemed like the complete party animal: he never seemed to study, he arrived noisily back in the room at 3 or 4 A.M., he played his music loudly whenever both of them were in the room and resisted requests to turn it down. In short, he had been the idiot roommate from hell that caused Brad to seek a way out of the dorm. Yet here he was, pledging a frat known for its academic standards.
As the pledges gathered for their first meeting, Brad took Alex aside. "Man, I never expected YOU to be here! You sure didn't seem the studious type those first few weeks in the dorm. Why are you pledging at GK?"
Alex gave Brad an odd look. "You know, it's funny you should ask that. All my life I've been the complete academic geek. I never drank in my life, never went out, spent all my spare time studying or at least reading chemistry journals. I was totally focused on my favorite subject, and driven to work on it day and night.
"But the very day you moved in, I had a weird experience. I can't remember all of it, but I know it began when a young guy, who looked like 16, poked his head in the room, pushed something under my nose that smelled really foul, and I passed out. I don't know why that experience would cause this, but starting that night, I lost interest in my studies and got the irresistable urge to find something to drink. For the whole two weeks you and I were roommates, I stayed out late at bars, did no schoolwork, and needed to hear my music as loud as possible. I know I must have been a completely obnoxious roommate to you, but I really couldn't help it. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but there was nothing I could do to stop it, and I knew I couldn't talk to anyone about it.
"The day after you got your GK invitation, I got mine. I came over here to the GK house that evening, and as I stepped in the door I saw that same young guy. That's the last thing I remember of that evening, but the next morning I woke up with an intense headache, like the hangover from a long binge period. When the headache wore off, it was like I was back to normal. I lost all desire to drink or party, and started picking up the books again. In just a short while, I'd caught up on what I was missing, and I was back on track to do well this term.
"Funny thing, I've asked just about everyone here at GK and no one has heard of that young guy. What was he doing here? How did he know I'd be here? Did he really exist, or is he just the product of my imagination during that wild period? I guess I'll never know.
"well, looks like the meeting is finally about to start. They told me that at this meeting, I'd learn the true meaning of being a Gamma Kappa. Probably some fake ritualistic bullshit." As they both drank the Kool-Aid they were offered, they were about to find out just how wrong Alex was. "Have you been assigned a room yet?"
"Yep," Brad said. "I'll be with an old friend from my home town, Bill. He's a Sig Lam, but it seems they have some kind of house-sharing arrangement with GK."
"Yeah, I'm evidently with Kevin somebody, he's a Sig Lam too. I met him for a couple of minutes before I got in here. He told me his roommate last year was president of Sig Lam, but graduated. He said he was eager to teach me everything he learned from Lance his freshman year. What... what do you think... think he..." Alex's eyes glazed over and his head rolled a bit.
By that time, most of the room had responded to the Kool-Aid and was following along with the induction up front. Within an hour, the pledges would be true GKs, and would see Sig Lams in an entirely different light.
And that is the story of how the Grand Master set up his two latest Sig Lam-Gamma Kappa experiments. Anything to help a Sig Lam legacy! Besides, if Bill could successfully convert Brad into his doting pet, maybe the gymnastics team, with their compact cute perfect bodies, could be made into the adoring pets of the bigger, rougher wrestling team. As the Grand Master spread his influence over more and more of the school, the possibilities seemed endless!